


You Got a Piece of Me (Madam President verse)

by Verkaiking



Series: MP Chronicles [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, OQ Prompt Party 2018, Outlaw Queen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 05:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verkaiking/pseuds/Verkaiking
Summary: For Friday (Day 5) of OQ Prompt Party 2018.This is a specific prompt I received for my AU Madam President, which you can read here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11372672/1/Madam-President





	You Got a Piece of Me (Madam President verse)

**Author's Note:**

> Specific prompt: On a state visit, the wife of another head of state is flirting a little too obviously with her husband, so President Regina Mills has to react.
> 
> Inspired by Song Prompt Song #23 - "My Life Would Suck Without you" - Kelly Clarkson
> 
> Combined with prompts:
> 
> #151 - Jealous Regina and/or Robin.
> 
> #181 - They almost get caught in any type of sexual situation by any character.
> 
> #189 - OQ have sex in a library
> 
> #200 - Robin and Regina get caught getting handsy in public
> 
> #202 - Regina and Robin attend a ball.

The White House library has resided in the northeastern corner of the ground floor since its move from the Yellow Oval Room in 1929. Furnished with pieces from the unique repertoire of Neoclassicist cabinet maker Duncan Phyfe, the room exudes both elegance and warmth, striped drapes complemented by the 19th century Tabriz carpet and the gilded wood chandelier that hangs from the ceiling in the very center.

It’s a well-lit space, with Argand lamps on every wall, and long windows that bring in the daylight and provide the ultimate venue for teas and meetings hosted by the President.

But today the blinds are shut on those windows, the chandelier is off, and only one of the Argand lamps keeps the room from being plunged into total darkness, its warm glow illuminating the space just enough for Regina to see her naked body in the mirror, bent over the prized round mahogany table as Robin pounds into her from behind.

He’s so hard, and they’re both sweaty, gasping and moaning as they watch themselves in that mirror. She loves having sex with him like this, especially here, where she has a way of seeing his face, the way he bites his lip as he looks down at his cock while it goes into her, how sweat begins to build on his chest as he runs his hand over her back, how he licks his lips when he kneads her ass... it all accelerates her movements, increases her own arousal to the point where she is begging him to fuck her harder, faster, her sweaty cheek resting flat against the wooden surface beneath her, her arms stretched out in front of her as she holds on to the edge of the table for purchase, taking him in deeper and more firmly with every thrust.

God, it’s been so long since she’s had him inside her (it hasn’t, it’s only been a week, but it had been a _long_ week of meetings and not seeing her husband until she’d come to bed exhausted from her hectic day), she can’t let that happen again. Why would she? It feels so good, _so_ good, when he bucks his hips against her just like that, his cock entering her at the perfect angle,  hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars.

“Fuuuck!” she shouts, “Right there!”

“God, you’re so fucking wet, my love, you feel— Mmmm,” his thrusts get a little erratic as he trails off on that moan, and she knows as his eyes settle on hers in the mirror that the visual is doing wonders for him, too.

On a particularly hard rap of his hips, Regina loses her grip on the edge of the table, hands landing flat on the surface as she lifts, her naked back coming in contact with his warm skin just behind her, his chest pressed flat against her as his lips wander down her neck, sucking and nipping as he keeps moving. He’s lost the sweet spot with the change in position, but one of his arms hooks under both of hers, holding her back while his other hand moves directly to her breast, squeezing there and giving her nipple a little rub with his thumb.

“Shit, just look at you,” he rasps, “so fucking gorgeous. Want to feel you come on my cock.”

It always gets her, the talking, the way his voice goes guttural and needy when he tells her how much he wants her, how beautiful she is, how tight, how wet. Regina moans on the next pass, the angle is awkward but it feels good anyway, she loves the way he can’t take his eyes off her reflection in that mirror, how he follows the movement of his finger over her nipple, licks his lips when she moans and meets his gaze in the glass.

That hand of his is moving to her other breast, treating it to the same attentions as the first, his tongue tracing a path down her neck again, until he reaches the crook and lingers, closing his lips around the sensitive skin and sucking hard, turning her next moan into a pathetic little whimper as she leans forward again and presses once more against the table, giving him more purchase against her hips, so he can thrust harder again, deeper.

And then there’s a knock on the library door, Ingrid’s prim tone acting as the proverbial bucket of ice cold water as she asks, “Madam President?”

“Fuck,” Robin hisses behind her, and Regina whines a little when she feels his cock leaving her, his knee half bumping into the back of her thigh as he searches hastily for his clothes. There’s a rush of cold air as he moves away that makes Regina shiver and curse her assistant under her breath, insulting her for her terrible timing.

“Coming!” she answers Ingrid, and scowls at Robin’s muttered _Not anymore_ as she rubs her thighs together and feels the wetness between them.

Her eyes scan the room for her underwear as Ingrid gives another knock, and Regina lets out a frustrated huff while haphazardly pulling her husband’s suit jacket on and heads for the door, opening it just enough to glare at her assistant.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says Ingrid, when she takes in Regina’s attire. “Your dinner with the ambassador of Uzbekistan is in forty minutes, and you’ve yet to choose an outfit. Ruby is concerned,” she continues, and Regina can hear the judgment in the woman’s voice, rolls her eyes and assures her she’ll be right out.

“And do try to look less affronted by the fact that I have a sex life, Ingrid, you’ve been with me long enough. Time to get over it,” she fires as she shuts the door, gritting her teeth as she turns back to her husband, who is holding her skirt and blouse with a knowing smile on his face.

“You look incredibly hot when you’re wearing my clothes,” he tells her, his gaze wandering over his jacket and the line of naked skin exposed by the unbuttoned front, from her chest down to her navel. She knows how much he loves it when she wears his jackets and is naked underneath, and while they no longer have time to finish what they started, she chooses to tease him just a little bit longer.

Walking into his arms, she presses her lips to his neck, kissing softly there, letting her tongue lick the spot before she pushes back to look into his eyes. He groans in response, his grip around her tightening as he brings her back in for a kiss; the sleeve of her blouse now dangles between his arm and her back, the very end of it tickling the backs of her thighs as it swings with their movements. His lips are wild and needy against hers, free hand venturing downward and grabbing her ass under his jacket.

He’s so hard, so thick and warm and wet from being inside her, his erection now pressing into her thigh as she kisses and kisses, nips at his lower lip and sucks at his tongue, her arm wedging between them so she can pump his cock with her hand, eliciting that loud, raspy noise he tends to make when he’s overcome with desire.

Another knock, and an “I’m sorry, ma’am, but time is of the essence,” from Ingrid, and Regina is growling into the kiss, finally moving away from him.

“You’re cute when you’re angry,” he flirts as he removes his jacket from her, making a point for his hand to linger at her breasts and knead gently.

“I’ll have to apologize later,” Regina admits, taking her clothes from him at last. Robin moves behind her, his hand pressing warm against her back to help her keep her balance as she steps into her skirt.

Wordlessly, he helps her button up her blouse, then watches while she ties her hair into a short ponytail at the nape of her neck and puts on her heels. Her bra and underwear lay forgotten on the carpet, because she’ll shower and change in a few minutes anyway, and he lifts the latter with a mischievous grin, letting it hang from his index finger as he licks his lips and looks at her.

“We’ll pick back up later?” he asks when she’s done making herself presentable.

“We better,” Regina fires back, and he chuckles, stepping into her space again and kissing her goodbye.

He tastes of the whiskey they had when they entered this room a good half hour ago, smokey and enticing in the most perfect way as he pushes her back until she lands half-sitting on the table. He’s sweet this time, slow and tender and wonderful, addicting as always, but lacking the urgency from before in an attempt to calm her. On the way out, she grabs his suit jacket again, looks at him over her shoulder with a smirk and throws it over her blouse as the door closes behind her.

Her apology to Ingrid is a begrudged “Sorry about before,” as she makes her way up the stairs, and Ingrid waves her off as expected, offers a half-hearted apology of her own for interrupting. They’ve never particularly liked each other, but despite her personal opinions on Regina, Ingrid has always been great at her job, and unwaveringly loyal, something that Regina appreciates.

Ruby greets her with a smile and a _Finally!_ as she brandishes two garment bags and throws them over the bed, pulling down the zipper on one and then the other as Ingrid steps out of the room.

“She totally busted you going at it in the library, didn’t she?” Ruby immediately questions as the other woman closes the door behind her, and Regina’s eyeroll is more than enough to answer her.

“Sorry, it’s partly my fault. I’ve been freaking out trying to organize your outfits for this whole thing. It was so last minute I haven’t had time to properly plan your looks and—”

“It’s fine,” Regina stops her, and this is the part where she’d smile, reassure her stylist-turned-friend that there were no hard feelings, but she doesn’t this time. Because she’s still wet, and aroused, and thanks to this mishap she has at least three hours to go before she can actually feel her husband fucking her again, so she’s allowed to be a little bitter. “Let me just shower and then I can try these on.”

Her options are two knee-length dresses. They’re both beautiful, one purple, one blue, both sleeveless and with a modest scoop neckline. The purple is a little is accented by the black and gold belt Ruby has paired with it, a soft black blazer to go on top, and black heels to complete it.

She tries the blue number on next, and Ruby tells her the same black blazer would go on top of this one. The ensemble is tasteful and elegant, but there’s no belt on this one due to the little accent zipper. Regina takes in the detailing, the way it wraps around her body like a thin, silvery snake, a nice, unique feature in the design.

More importantly, there’s a slit that goes mid-thigh, the start of it meeting the end of the zipper, and Regina just knows Robin will be drooling over it, not to mention the slit means easier access if she can get him to a secluded enough space during tonight’s event.

“Blue it is,” says Regina, unable to hide her smirk, and Ruby just laughs, tells her she suspected as much, and packs the purple dress for tomorrow’s breakfast meeting.

* * *

Dinner is a quiet affair. Akmal Samandarov, the new ambassador of Uzbekistan, is a proud man, and a simple minded one. He’s by far not the first man Regina has encountered who dislikes the idea of women in power, but the way he makes his distaste known is quite annoying to her. He doesn’t insult her, not really, because that would require him saying more than just the courtesy greeting that is expected of him. Instead, he engages _Robin_ in conversation, acts quite the pleasant guest to him and all the male members of Regina’s cabinet, yet ignores her, the president, almost entirely. She can see that Robin is talking about her, trying to get the man to discuss his hobbies with her, to make him speak more, but all the man does is _Hmm_ at her before he seeks a new topic of conversation, often involving things like hunting, a sport Regina detests.

Still, she does her best to engage, because her mission is to entertain, to charm him and make him comfortable (or if all else fails, drunk) enough to get him to agree to a deal that will have Uzbekistan trading their energy production exports in America instead of Russia, opening a new market for the United States.

Tonight’s dinner marks the beginning of a weekend-long cultural exchange visit planned just for Samandarov and his entourage. Tomorrow, they’ll be heading to the outskirts of the city after breakfast, to visit the site of a mosque that collapsed last summer and is being rebuilt by the Uzbek Volunteers Association. Robin has agreed to join the workers for an hour of manual labor, and Samandarov seems impressed by that, has vowed between laughs to join him even if he has to dirty his designer suit with cement.

Regina is livid.

She retires for a moment, doubtful they’ll even notice, and hides in the nook under the main stairs, breathing through her anger. She’s been gone all of twenty seconds when Robin’s voice whispers, “I knew I’d find you here,” from just behind her, his hand finding her waist and turning her to face him.

“Is this what it’s gonna be like all weekend?” she asks, knowing the answer.

Robin frowns, breathes an _I’m sorry_ as his other hand moves to grasp hers. “His wife is attending all the events with him tomorrow, maybe he’ll be less insufferable then,” he offers, and Regina sighs, nodding.

“Some days I really do hate this job,” she whispers, resisting the urge to look around her and see if anyone’s listening. They’re alone, with the nearest Secret Service agent far enough that their words won’t be heard.

“You’ve been running yourself ragged this entire week, more so than usual,” he says. “You need some rest, my love.”

“What I need is for that pompous jerk to stop acting like I’m beneath him and sign that stupid deal,” she grouses, her gaze petulantly fixed on the lapel of his jacket. He digs his fingers tenderly into her waist, giving her a little squeeze, and it prompts her to finally look up at him.

“You’ll get it done. I have no doubt that you will,” he tells her, with that unwavering determination that always colors his tone when he’s being encouraging. It makes her smile, because he really is adorable when he’s being supportive.

“You really think so?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“I know so,” Robin replies, the hand holding hers now moving to cradle her cheek, his thumb rubbing over the apple of it as he leans in. “You’ll succeed. You always do.”

He brushes the tip of his nose against hers, not stopping until she smiles, and then he tells her, “Go upstairs, I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well. Relax for a bit, hmm? You’re exhausted.”

“No. I will not give him yet another reason to think I’m weak. I’m going back in,” she fumes, ready to step out and head back to dinner, paused only by the dumb smile he’s giving her.

“What?” she asks.

“You’re adorable when you’re cranky,” Robin answers with a shake of the head. Regina scowls, battling a real smile as she grabs his hand and drags him with her, back into the lion’s den.

She’s seated across from the man, because he’d refuse to “sit with the women” and has surrounded himself in male dignitaries and staff, so it’s hard to get him to pay attention to her, let alone discuss the deal between their countries, but Regina persists, yells over the table chatter when need be, which in turn makes the table go quiet, and thankfully that forces Samandarov to answer her every time it happens, because it’s only after he does it that the chatter starts back up again.

Throughout the rest of the evening, Robin uses their old little Nokias to keep her motivated, sends her encouraging texts from under the table ( _Just breathe, my love, you can do this_ , and _I’m so proud of you for not throwing your bread at him after that comment_ , and _You’re doing great_ ), some jokes on Samandarov’s disgusting table manners ( _I’m quite certain you could hear him chewing on those lamb chops all the way to Timbuktu_ ), and an endless stream of flirtatious comments that have her squirming in her seat. She doesn’t answer any of them, for fear someone will catch what she’s typing, but Robin is a master, typing away one-handed under the table as he converses casually with Samandarov’s chief of staff.

_That dress is making my mouth water_

_You’re stunning_

_I love you_

_I want you_

_No, really, I hate that we were interrupted. I need you._

_I didn’t even get to see you come. Can we fire Ingrid for robbing me of that?_

_That dress tightens gloriously over your breasts every time you move and it’s driving me crazy_

_I want to pull on that zipper with my teeth and watch all that blue fall right off your gorgeous skin_

_I can see your blush from here. I love that I can still do that to you._

She sighs with that one, looks straight at him across the table after reading it, and they share a private smile after she discreetly mouths an _I love you_ , and she sees the muscles of his right arm tense as he begins to type another message under the table.

_What if I crawled under the table and ate you out right here?_

It’s unexpected after the tender moment from before. So much so that she chokes a bit on her wine and almost drops the phone from its hiding place on her lap, her eyes widening as they find him once more. And all Robin does is shrug and return to his conversation.

Smug bastard. She’ll have to teach him a few lessons later tonight, when they’re naked and away from gossiping diplomats.

But by the time all guests have left and they finally make it back to their room, Regina is exhausted. Her plans for vengeful seduction disappear from her mind, and instead all she has the strength to do is take a shower. She’s passed out before Robin is done with his.

* * *

Her cell alarm goes off at five, a whole hour before her wake-up call, and though it takes great effort to open her eyes, the feeling of Robin shifting closer behind her and whispering a _Good morning_ in her ear makes it all worth it.

They’ve taken to doing this lately. Carving out little moments of alone time before their day starts, sacrificing a bit of sleep in exchange for an hour of peace with each other. Sometimes it leads to lazy, fantastic morning sex, but most days it’s just a long morning cuddle. Complete with hugs and kisses and the endless loop of his hand caressing her bare back under her top.

She’s lying on her side, with his arm wrapped over her middle, and Regina greets back “Good morning,” her voice low as she places her arm on top of his, her fingers lacing into his own, thumb rubbing over his wrist.

He sighs into the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and she feels her body relax further into the mattress, exhaling her relief at just having him here by her side, loving her. She’s gonna need that today.

“Stop thinking,” he slurs sleepily behind her, then kisses the back of her shoulder, a swift, chaste thing that comes more out of habit than anything else, but cheers her up all the same. Regina laughs, turning under his arm and propping her head on her hand, her elbow digging into the pillow as his hand now moves under the hem of her top and caresses the skin of her lower back.

“It’ll be fine,” he insists. “I promise.”

Regina leans in for a kiss, tender and sweet, the perfect starter for her day.

“I’m actually quite looking forward to you in jeans later today,” she flirts. “With your hardhat and a big hammer, hard at work, all sweaty and tempting.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him as she speaks, delights in the way he laughs softly.

“I’ll be sure to let my buttcrack show just for you,” he teases, and it’s her turn to laugh now, leaning in and kissing the tip of his nose.

They stay just where they are, staring at each other, smiling like idiots, and Regina knows that as long as she has this, she can tackle whatever this job throws her way.

And it’s with that knowledge that she’s up before her wakeup call, the phone ringing when she’s in the shower, naked as her husband lazily lathers her up with soap, washing away the suds with warm water and kissing her squeaky clean skin right after. He skips out then, though, interrupting what she believed would turn into a quick romp, with his cock inside her and her back against the shower wall. She scowls as he abandons her for a few seconds, while he picks up the call and informs the staff member on duty that they’re up and will be down shortly, and sadly that brisk gust of cold air when he opens the shower door to get back in is enough to wake her fully, especially when he lets her know that Roland woke up early and wants to have breakfast with them before they depart.

He’s ready before she is, and sits behind her while she does her makeup, her face close to the mirror while she applies eyeliner and a bit of that peachy nude lipstick she knows he likes.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, hugging her from behind and kissing down the side of her neck, until he meets the collar of her blouse and looks up at her reflection.

It’s as he looks straight into her eyes that his hand moves around and squeezes a breast, dipping slowly down to just below the waistband of her skirt, pressing there so that her back is flush against his chest.

“You are the most powerful woman in the world,” he flirts, in that sexy, low tone he uses when he’s trying to seduce her. “Don’t ever let anyone say no to you.”

Her eyes have lost their hold on his in the mirror, closing as her head lolls back and onto his shoulder, and she can feel his warm breath on her neck as he speaks against her skin, telling her, “Go get what is yours.”

They leave in separate cars, because Robin has to stop at the Embassy to greet the uzbek ambassador and his entourage before they all head out to the mosque together. When they arrive, Regina is already there, and her eyes zero in on a tall woman that exits the car just behind Samandarov.

She’s tall and slender, beautiful and younger than Regina would’ve thought the wife of a diplomat to be, or at least a diplomat as old as Samandarov. She’s in her early forties, with chemically blonde hair that is darker at the roots, falling in perfectly crafted waves down her back. She’s impeccably dressed in black trousers and a sleeveless white blouse, accessorized with a bold, colorful necklace showcasing the jewel tones and rustic designs of Uzbek tribal jewelry. Her makeup is simple, youthful and fresh, and her smile would be gorgeous if it wasn’t directed at Regina’s own husband.

The woman’s hand is on his shoulder as she laughs at something, fingers not-so-innocently caressing down his arm as she replies to his comment, and Regina shakes her head, because surely she’s seeing things. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

Samandarov greets Regina with indifference, which doesn’t help her nerves, or her patience, and it’s a blessing when Robin finally saddles up next to her and greets her with a publicly-appropriate kiss on the cheek.

The press are snapping pictures left and right, yelling out for Regina and Robin to look into this camera or that camera, and Samandarov simply turns his back to her, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist and introducing her to the leaders of the Uzbek Volunteers Association, who have just arrived and have been strategically hijacked by Samandarov’s staff for their first meeting.

Regina sighs, the smile she’s putting on for the cameras falling slightly, but Robin’s hand is solid on the small of her back, his words whispered into her ear as he leans closer.

“Patience. He’s a misogynistic coward, pretending he knows this project more than you do. Everyone here knows that’s not true, he’s looking like a fool right now. Don’t worry. You’ll win this.”

He then leaves her to get changed for the work demonstration, and Regina feels alienated and utterly out of place. The leaders of the association are a few steps ahead of her, and they seem excited to meet their ambassador, engaging him in conversation about home, about their culture and the work they’ve been doing.

She chimes in with a congratulatory comment, trying to take back control of the event, and the association leaders turn to her with a smile, being much more receptive than their leader as they join her, shaking her hand and thanking her for coming. She can tell it’s a genuine gesture, that they truly mean it when they say they are grateful for her support, and Regina feels like she can breathe again, using them as her support to get Samandarov into talking to her.

They discuss the condition of the mosque before it collapsed, get a summary of all the reports and the construction plans. They are now on phase two of five, and well on track to complete the current task by the end of the week.

“We’ve received more volunteers since it was announced that you were coming, Madam President,” one of them says, his accent making the words cuter somehow. “Some of them aren’t even from Uzbekistan, they just want to help.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Jamshid,” Regina tells him, because it’s wonderful to know that the community wants to give them a hand. And then, just to add to the light mood the young man seems to favor, she adds, “Today you get my husband as one of your volunteers as well! Though I can’t vouch for his skills on this particular field.”

Jamshid laughs, nods and promises, “I am sure we will make it work.”

Regina smiles her thanks, and they are all ushered into place as they wait for Robin to join the workers that are now performing various tasks within the construction area.

Regina is given a yellow hardhat, and she puts it on along with the protective goggles. Dust is already settling on her light gray pants, but her ruffled white blouse is still somewhat protected by her blazer, and thankfully the colors she’s wearing tend to blend with the dirt flying about, unlike Mrs. Samandarov’s black designer pants.

She’s introduced to her as they wait, and the woman gives her a saccharine smile and the flimsiest handshake as she asks, “Call me Olga.”

“Nice to meet you, Olga,” Regina says, smiling back just as the jean-clad announcer steps onto the podium that’s been set up for the event.

“Madam President, Ambassador Samandarov, Mrs. Samandarov, staff, workers, ladies and gentlemen of the press. My name is Sufian,” he says, his accent barely noticeable. “I’ve been the head of this reconstruction project for the Uzbek Volunteers Association since its beginning, and I must say I could not be prouder of what we’ve accomplished so far...”

He goes on to detail the construction plans and what parts of it have been completed, and Regina listens attentively, smiling when Sufian finally announces Robin’s participation.

“...and so I want to thank President Mills, for helping us spread the word about our organization and all the good it does through its tireless volunteers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I as we get to work on phase three of our project with the help of First Gentleman Robin Locksley!”

Applause breaks out as Robin steps out onto the site, and Regina is not ashamed to admit that her own applause is probably the loudest, her eyes glued to the site of her very attractive husband sporting light wash jeans, a toolbelt and a safety vest, her mouth watering at the mental image of just how great the white T-shirt under it must look, stretching over those tight muscles she’s been wanting to lick since this morning. His hardhat is red, the sun casting a brief glare over his goggles when he turns and waves a gloved hand to his audience, flashing Regina a smile.

She shifts in her seat, keeping the polite smile on her face as she waves back to him, but her eyes are trailing over his form, and she’s sure she looks like a lovesick puppy to the press right now, proudly smiling and watching her husband do some manual labor.

But he looks hot while doing it, and so she doesn’t care.

The sleeves of his shirt hug the hard muscles of his arms as he moves, a lock of hair escaping his hat and falling just over his goggles as he sticks the tip of his tongue out in concentration, carrying heavy blocks from one end of the construction to the other.

The heat has him sweating, and he’s focused entirely on his work, not looking at her or anyone else, making sure everyone remains safe as he does this little showing, but her gaze is roaming over him still, taking in the light sheen that seeps into the front of his shirt, the light dust spots on his jeans and over his arms. He looks... delicious; casual and ruggedly handsome, and Regina starts to feel a little warm.

The demonstration itself doesn’t last more than a few minutes, with Samandarov conveniently forgetting his promise from last night to jump into the construction duties with Robin, suit and all. Instead, he looks bored with the whole thing as soon as the press filters out, but his wife is interested, telling him she’d like to talk to some of the workers, find out a bit more about them and their tasks. Regina is impressed, and offers to go with them, but Samandarov bows out.

“I have an appointment that could not be moved,” he says, but insists his wife stay and meet the workers like she wants (no doubt because it’ll give him good press while he dodges the responsibility), and then he tells Regina, “I will see you tonight at the ball, Ms. Mills.”

“President Mills,” Regina corrects sweetly, smiling good naturedly as she replies, “and yes, I will surely see you tonight.”

He leaves then, not even looking for a barb to throw her way after the correction, and as the car pulls away, Olga turns to her with a grin and a “Shall we?”

Robin is still helping the workers, but stops when he sees her, bowing his head to Olga and then taking Regina’s hand with a rushed, “We’ll be back, I just have to show the President the structure outside, but please, Mrs. Samandarov, meet the head builder, Mr. Farhod. He’ll fill you in and introduce you to the workers.”

He leaves before the woman can reply, dragging Regina with him, and she’s so happy to be holding his hand again that she discards decorum for the next few minutes.

Before she knows it, he’s taking off both their hats and goggles and pressing her against one of the rough cement columns, kissing her fiercely.

“Saw the way you were looking at me,” he rasps into her neck as his head veers down. “Wanted to take you right here, in front of everyone.”

“You were— _mmm_ , quite the sight,” Regina flirts back, moaning again when he grabs at her ass, and they shouldn’t be doing this _here_ , but there’s all this pent-up sexual tension after being interrupted in the library yesterday, and god, she wants him so bad.

“Not here,” Robin says, kissing her again, and she realizes then that she’s said it out loud. “Later,” he insists, “after the ball, when you’ve secured your deal, I’m going to bend you over the desk in our suite and fuck you silly.”

She moans, nods and gasps when he nibbles at her bottom lip before finally letting her go, helping her fix her rumpled blouse and disheveled hair. Regina laughs, but lets him do it, then watches him grab his things from where they'd fallen on the floor, putting his hat and goggles back on before he leaves. She takes two whole minutes putting her own protective gear back on, breathing deeply to calm her raging hormones and look less conspicuous as she walks out and joins the small crowd still waiting for them.

Robin is back to helping around. He’s not half bad, according to the head builder, who shakes Regina’s hand vigorously and thanks her for coming, commending her on her role as president and insisting that he voted for her despite everyone thinking she couldn’t hack it.

Regina laughs softly, and thanks him sincerely for his compliments, and somehow she’s lost Olga, who was just beside her meeting the man.

She scans her eyes over the site, and her mood becomes sour in an instant.

Olga is with Robin, doing that shoulder-to-arm caress thing Regina had seen her do when they arrived, and her blood boils as she watches the woman outwardly trying to flirt with her husband.

She’s laughing at something he says, that hand that doesn’t seem to know where it belongs moving yet again to his arm, holding onto it this time as she commends him for being so good at construction. He thanks her, surreptitiously moving his arm away, but he’s smiling back, continuing his conversation with her, and Regina is furious.

Turning to the head builder, she says her goodbyes, trying to keep her decorum. He seems taken aback by the sudden announcement of her departure, but smiles and shakes her hand again, thanks her again, tells her again that he voted for her. She smiles, _again_ , and wishes him the best with the reconstruction, vowing to come visit the mosque when it’s completed, and then turns to her Secret Service escort, two agents she doesn’t know by name.

“We should go, we’re running behind,”  she tells them. And that’s a lie, Ingrid is here, watching everything from the sidelines and making sure their schedule isn’t messed up, but the agents don’t question her. “Mr. Locksley can ride back with Mrs. Samandarov.”

She doesn’t tell Robin that she’s leaving, doesn’t even turn to acknowledge Ingrid when she asks why they’re heading out ten minutes early. There are a few reporters still nearby, waiting to film her leaving the site, so she gives them what they want, waves and smiles and thanks them for coming, then climbs into the car, and leaves.

She doesn’t see Robin again for the rest of the day.

* * *

The ball for Samandarov is the definition of elegance, crystal and fine china and chandeliers and gold-accented decor, with white flowers decorating every possible surface, and quality entertainment in the form of a string quartet.

Regina is wearing an off the shoulder, forest green ball gown, the chiffon soft and graceful as it drapes on the bodice and opens into a long, flowy skirt. It’s one of her favorite things she’s ever worn, accented by the diamond-and-emerald necklace Robin had given her for Christmas. Her hair is down, her loose waves styled perfectly, her makeup soft and feminine.

She’d feel beautiful, sexy even, if she wasn’t so angry.

Robin doesn’t show for dinner, and neither does Olga, making Regina’s table empty save for Samandarov and herself. It’s a good thing, she tells herself, because he can’t escape her here. No one is allowed to approach the ambassador until he’s risen from the table, and protocol dictates that he sit through dinner with the president.

During their meal, Regina tries to talk to him about the deal, tries to get him to agree, and gets nothing but non committal answers from him, which only frustrates her further.

Robin chooses that moment to arrive, with Olga Samandarov on his arm. She shoots Regina a self-satisfied smile, then turns to Robin and whispers something in his ear.

Regina’s whole face begins to feel warm, and she knows her skin must look flushed. She can’t tell the woman to back off, not here, not with everyone watching. Ambassador Samandarov is waiting for her to show the slightest bit of womanly “weakness” to back out of the deal, she cannot do this here.

Instead, she stands up before Robin can greet her, leaving the ambassador to finish his food with his new companions, and walks out of the room without an escort, stopping the agent who insists on following her. “I just need some air,” she tells him. “I won’t go far, and there’s more agents in the hallways, I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t wait for his answer, keeps walking until she reaches the balcony, throwing the doors open and practically slamming herself against the rails, holding onto the gold bannister and looking down at the White House grounds stretching ahead.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale, exhale. Her head falls back, her eyes looking up at the stars. No crying, she cannot cry, not here. Not when she has a ball to go back to.

“Regina? What’s wrong?” Robin asks, and Regina scoffs. She should’ve known he’d follow her.

“You should go, your best friend Olga will wonder where you are,” she spits back, not looking at him. And yes, she’s acting like a petulant child, and she doesn’t care.

He rounds on her, and his index finger crooks under her chin, lifting her face to his before he tells her, “You know you have nothing to worry about.”

That makes her sigh, because it’s true, he’d never cheat, would never put her through that kind of pain. But still...

“You let her touch you. And you arrived with her tonight. How do you think that makes us look?”

“Like we’re being good hosts for our guests?” Robin asks. “You know it’s protocol for me to join the spouses of whoever we’re entertaining.”

“Oh, I’m sure Olga thinks you've been a _great_ host!” she huffs.

“Hey,” he half-snaps. “You know me. You know I’d never do that to you, you mean _everything_ to me. My life is _nothing_ without you, I...” he sighs then, his tone softening as he asks, “You know all of this. What’s this really about, Regina?”

Tears build now, and she fights them, fights so hard to stop them from spilling and ruining her makeup, looking up at the sky and blinking repeatedly to keep them at bay.

“It’s never gonna end, is it?” she finally says. “I’m always gonna have to prove myself to jerks like him.”

Robin cradles her cheek in his palm, and she turns to land a kiss there, looking up at him and feeling foolish when she admits, “And I hated that she had her hands all over you, and that she kept hitting on you like I wasn’t there. And you let her! You are _my_ husband.”

He smiles at that, teases, “I do love it when you get possessive.”

“Shut up,” Regina fires back, looking away from him.

He sighs again, and explains, “At the construction site, I pulled away from her when she tried to touch me, I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to cause a scene. And then you left me to ride back with her after the event, and she tried to make a pass at me in the car. I told her I was happily married, and only have eyes for my incredible wife.”

He says it fiercely, with such determination as he looks into her eyes, and anger consumes her even as a couple of those tears finally fall.

He kisses her then, without a single word, pauses only to say, “She apologized, and asked if we could start over, I agreed out of politeness, which is why you saw us entering together tonight. But you are my wife, and I adore you. Don’t ever doubt that, Regina. I’m with you. Always.”

The words soothe her, help her rapidly beating heart reach a slower rhythm, and she nods, breathing in deep. “I’m sorry, I should’ve talked to you before jumping to conclusions.”

He shakes his head, tells her she has nothing to be sorry for, that these things happen, and that he loves her. He kisses her again, the exchange getting a little heated when he nips at her bottom lip and then veers his head away to kiss down her neck.

“Have I told you how much I hate this dress?” he asks there, the words warm on her skin as his hand tugs on the little zipper by her waist. “Looks so good on you, clinging to your breasts like this. Makes me jealous.”

“Good,” she says, feeling some of her playfulness flood back into her.

“Excuse me?” he asks, pulling away to look at her, his eyes all mischief and amusement as he awaits her answer.

“You heard me” Regina says nonchalantly. “Serves you right for leaving me high and dry in the library yesterday.”

His answering chuckle is a low, breathy thing, and then he’s leaning in, pressing her against the shadowed side of the balcony, her back against the wall as he kisses her long and slow, his hand grabbing the fabric by her thigh and hiking it up, up, up, until his hand is touching bare skin, teasing over the fabric of her underwear.

“If I remember correctly, it was you who left, Madam President,” he teases, “and you were by no means dry.”

His finger presses a bit more firmly then, and the contact makes her moan into his mouth as she kisses him, hard and fast, tongue plunging into his mouth and making his breathing falter as he kisses back with abandon..

“Never,” he says, nipping at her bottom lip and then trailing kisses down her neck and shoulders, “think that I would choose anyone else over you.”

She nods eagerly, whether in agreement with his words or because she wants more of the delicious pressure of his finger, she’s not sure, but she delights in all of it, holds onto him hard and lets him kiss and bite and lick at her.

“I’m sure they’re fine!” Ruby’s intentionally loud voice comes from inside. “Maybe they just stepped needed some air! I’ll go check!”

The hungry exchange transforms into laughter, and Robin holds her as they both snicker where they hide. Regina is thankful for the shadows that keep them from being seen, huddling further into them while she fixes the bunched fabric of her dress.

“At least _she_ knows to warn us before she interrupts,” Robin jokes, and her laughter picks up again.

“I have a feeling Ingrid has learned her lesson now,” Regina informs him. “But we should go back inside.”

Ruby pokes her head out of the doors then, smiling at them. “Lovebirds, you’re wanted inside.”

They both tell her they’ll be right there, and she grins and rolls her eyes as she leaves them to it, hollering, “It’s fine! They’ll be right in!” at what Regina presumes is the group of Secret Service agents that didn’t want to interrupt a marital fight.

Robin sighs, nods, and just before she steps out toward the doors, he grabs her by the waist, smacking her against him and kissing her one last time as he rasps, “Can’t wait til I can get you alone. Rip this dress off and taste every inch of you.”

She whimpers at the words, a squeaky little _Robin_ that makes him smile smugly, and after a onceover on each other to make sure there’s nothing out of place, they both walk back inside.

The deal is agreed upon less than an hour later, when Regina brings out Samandarov’s favorite American musician, Eric Prince, as a special treat. The man is so excited about meeting one of his idols that he even shakes Regina’s hand and thanks her for a lovely evening. If she’d known this is all it would take for the man to budge, she would’ve brought Eric in so much sooner.

Regardless, she and Robin actually do enjoy the rest of their evening. She’s a little possessive still, doesn’t stop touching him when Olga is around, but the woman gets the message, and doesn’t approach Robin again.

And later, when everyone has left and they’re alone in their room, Regina lets Robin show her just how much he means it when he says she’s his one and only.

Five orgasms later, she’s truly and thoroughly convinced.


End file.
